Somewhere in Saint-Leu

“We are thus living in the period of big cities. Deliberately, the world has been amputated of all that constitutes its permanence: nature, the sea, hilltops, evening meditation. Consciousness is to be found only in the streets, because history is to be found only in the streets — this is the edict.”

Helen’s Exile

The magnificent Cathedral casts it’s long Gothic shadow. Beneath it; amongst the lantern lit cobble stoned streets, atop my crows nest I look down unto the dealings of Saint-Leu.

Who on its surface could certainly convince you of its historic charm. By day, what could be described as an optimistic buzz, becomes somewhat alluring. During those mornings, when the sun commands the sky, these romantic charms are even intensified.

All sorts fill the streets, and by mid day the sandwich shop barely manages to appease the swarms of students.

An intermission finally arrives, and preparation for the second acts commences. The restaurateurs begin to emerge. Dozens of chairs and tables accompany them. Echoes begin to fill the street as the patrons attempt to shed their day.

The night supplies danger as it does joy. Fuelled by courage, beer and whatever other substance they deem acceptable, as is their nature, the young males hunt for an opportunity to prove themselves.

Though the dynamics continue to baffle me. I see children. Families. Women alone in poorly lit streets. There seems to a simple and balanced understanding. Mind your own business.

A vacuum for the human condition. Protests and privilege. Late nights teeming with chaos, and mornings hungover with peace.

There is barely silence and scarcely solitude. But one can not help but be captivated by the lingering charm of old Europe.

This is where I am. This is where I observe. A study of nature. Somewhere lost in Saint-Leu.